Use Me Up
by Scarlet Ibis
Summary: One shot set during Gone.  Encouraged to be written this evening to make it in time for the Nekid Spike LJ community for Spike's Bad Day.


A/N: When I say challenge response, I mean in regards to being challenged by the Nekid Spike LJ community. Although, I was also inspired by a couple of debates on the forums...can ya guess which one?

Oh, and this _so_ wasn't beta'd, cause I was way impatient, and kinda cranky at how I forced myself to write it under extreme circumstances, in which I totally ignored doing my homework. Oh, and the title comes from this song (which I think) is of the same name.

Hope someone likes ;)

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"Use Me Up"

Well, the morning had gone piss poor. Not that he was thinking about that anymore. Nope. The stupid chit could do whatever she pleased. He had an un-life, after all, and didn't need to go around lickin' her boots and begging for scraps. He would _gladly_ leave that to the boy and the poofter, should he ever decide to show his broad forehead in Sunnydale again.

_Oh my god, the blood! Look at all the blood!_

Try as he might, Spike simply couldn't focus on the Svengoli creature feature on WCIU. This was mostly because his stomach was making all kinds of gurglies. He had forgotten to eat earlier that morning. Of course, it was all _her_ fault. He couldn't get the heartless bint off of his mind, could he? She was still in his system. Even more so, after...well, he refused to even go there.

Resting his hand on his stomach, he got up heading over to the fridge for a jar of blood. Just as he unscrewed the lid, bringing it to his lips, his crypt door opened. Spike's eyes narrowed as he saw that no one was there.

_Well, it damn sure wasn't the wind..._

He put the jar down on the counter, heading cautiously towards the door.

"Whatever beastie you are, I know you're here. And I hurt beasties."

Spike's head turned as he felt a presence that seemed damn familiar circle around him, and then it lightly squeezed his right ass cheek.

"Hey, watch it," he commanded, not sure what this particular...beastie's agenda was. Spike sighed in irritation as his telly was suddenly turned off.

"A ghost, is it? Well go and haunt the living, like a good spook."

The presence started to circle him once again, and Spike couldn't help but feel confused, cause it seemed as if--

The abrupt, hard grab of his shoulder stopped that train of thought. He tried fruitlessly to grab at it, only to be harshly spun around, and slammed into his crypt wall.

He gasped--from the shock of the invisible entity throttling him so, and from the pain currently resonating in the back of his skull as it made impact with the stone that was his wall. He tried to move away, but had his hands slammed into the hard rock behind him for his troubles. His shirt was suddenly ripped open, and he gasped again, from unexpected pleasure, as a hot little mouth encircled his nipple.

"Buffy?" he asked hesitantly.

"I told you. Stop trying to see me."

And then she was hurling him again--this time to the opposite side of the room, and Spike fell and rolled, landing against the side of the sarcophagous. Spike looked up wearily, squinting his eyes as he tried to suss out where exactly the Slayer was.

"Buffy, pet. Just what exactly is going on?"

"God, what is with you and all the questions?" she asked irritably, pulling him up and yanking him towards the opening of his lower level. She shoved him again, causing him to slide across the floor, going head first into the ladder. He was unable to stop himself as he fell down the hole head first, landing on his back.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, trying to ease himself up as he heard the Slayer righting the ladder, and slowly descending.

"'What's this mean?' 'What was that?' 'Do you love me?' Blah, blah, blah," she mocked, helping him stand.

"Well, excuse me for having an inquisitive mind. Though I understand how thinking _isn't_ your strong suit--"

He was cut off once again, as Buffy swiftly grabbed both ends of his chocolate shirt, and hurled him across the room and onto his bed.

"I'm gonna ignore that, Spikey." He heard her sigh, and the rustle of her clothing as it was being removed. "Don't you ever wanna just...feel?"

And then she was upon him, straddling his waist as she removed the rest of his shirt, attacking the button and zippers of his pants, yanking them downward impatiently, and sighing in frustration when she was hindered by his boots. He felt her move off of him, and watched as invisible hands undid the laces before yanking them off simultaneously, and making the legs of his jeans follow suit.

"Yeah, pet. Feeling is great. Know what else is? Seeing. Why can't I see you?"

"Dunno. The gang's working on it though. I got blasted with some do-dad earlier today, and I was all inviso-girl. Ain't it grand?" She was crawling up his body, slowly, until she was able to sit on his thighs. She started to stroke him, urging him to hardness, as she began to tease his nipples with her mouth and teeth again. Much to Spike's distress, his body was reacting to her ministrations quite quickly. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her upwards.

"What is this, Buffy?" She sighed, and he just knew she was rolling those lovely, hazel eyes of hers.

"God, again with the qu--"

"I mean, why are you here? Was it not a few hours ago you were throwin' me out, vehemently telling anyone that would listen how I was _not_ your boyfriend, and so forth? Telling me to just go?"

"Well, that's in the past, isn't?" she replied flippantly, pushing him back down onto the bed as she quickly lowered herself onto his erection.

No waiting. No warning. No asking.

_So much like the first time._

Spike stopped fighting her in the matter, and just decided to enjoy the ride. But his annoyance and dismay resurfaced continuously throughout the evening, and well into the night, as she continuously rebuked his kisses, turned her head from the soft caresses he attempted to place upon her cheek. How she refused to touch him with any semblance of care.

It hurt, how she rejected him.

Manipulated him.

The only time that their pace even slowed down to something that didn't resemble furious fucking was when he finally got to be on top, and had some semblance of control. It was then that he closed his eyes, imagining that she was with him--really _with_ him, and wholly accepted his love.

His imaginings had been shaky at best, what with the lack of comforting caresses from a lover's hand that should've been going up and down his back in encouragement, and finally deteriorated into oblivion at the sound of Harris' voice.

Now, he had a show to put on. After all, he was Buffy's dirty, little secret, yeah? Wouldn't due if one of her damn Scoobies found out. Especially Xander.

It was too easy, really. It was as plain as day that Spike clearly wasn't alone right then, even if it was with an invisible someone. The moans that hadn't been coming from him, his ear lobe moving and wiggling about all on its lonesome, and oh yeah, Buffy happened to be _invisible_ at the moment, you say?

Spike really wished they had been interrupted by someone who wasn't utterly clueless, as opposed to Xander. He was certain that if brains were dynamite, the boy wouldn't have enough to blow up the eye of a needle.

Spike sighed as he left, turning around to face the seemingly empty bed.

"That was bloody stupid."

"What's the matter? Ashamed to be seen with me?" she asked sarcastically. Spike grit his teeth, tossing the sheet aside as he got up to get a drink, hoping that the burn of the alcohol would take away the sting of her statement.

She knew damn well that she was the one ashamed to be seen with _him_.

Her going on to explain how it was perfect that her best friend had been none the wiser of her presence in Spike's bed pissed him off even more, and he found himself taking the anger and frustration out on his innocent glassware, slamming a glass down on the table.

"Perfect for you," he muttered, his voice overt with bitterness.

"Well, picture me confused. I thought this was what you wanted."

Spike shook his head, giving an annoyed sigh.

"What I want..."

He knew that no matter what he said or how he said it, she wouldn't get it. Cause it was all about her, wasn't it? And he was irrelevant. Just someone, some _thing_ she passed the time with whenever and however she pleased. But the fact of the matter was, he still loved her, and would do anything he could to help her.

Except for tonight. He was through playing these games.

_Especially since...bloody hell._

"Free of life? Got another name for that. Dead."

"Why do you always have to..." Her voice became pouty, and she stood up, approaching him. "I thought we were having fun."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, intercepting her from coming in close contact with him.

"Yeah, _now_. But sooner or later, your chums are gonna work out a way to bring you back to living color." Defeat was in his eyes as he let her go. "You need to go." His voice was laced with pain, and he internally winced at how weak he souned to his own ears. Drawing himself up to his full height, he quickly added in an authoritative voice, "Get dressed if you can find your clothes, and push off. 'Cause if I can't have all of you, I'd rather--"

Spike stopped mid sentence as Buffy engulfed his lax penis into her mouth, massaging his sac with one powerful, eager hand.

"Okay, that's cheating," Spike groused as he looked downward.

He made a grab for her hair, gently trying to pull her back--to pull her mouth off of him, but she held firm, abandoning his balls as she gripped his narrow hips, holding him in place. He groaned in what was mostly frustration, bending slightly so as to escape the cavern of her mouth.

"I mean it, Buffy. I don't want to do this."

Her only response was briefly releasing him, shoving him downward. She straddled him, backwards, taking him into her mouth again, hoping he would return the favor as--

And then she found herself landing atop the Oriental carpet with an "oomph." Spike had shoved her off.

She looked up at him, taking in his tense stance and taut muscles, as if he were expecting a fight. He refused to look in her direction, instead heading to his dresser, pulling out another pair of pants, putting them on quickly. He stood there, immobile, his back to her, waiting for her to get her things and leave.

Less than five minutes later, he heard her go up the latter, releasing an annoyed sigh as she did so.

It was all such...an _inconvenience_ to her.

And he was simply a convenience.

Nothing more.

He knew she wasn't gone for good--that'd be too easy. It was only a matter of time before she sought him out again, or worse, if he was the one to do the seeking. And he had to wonder, how long would it all last? He meant it when he said he wanted all of her, and was tired of being in the dark. But that was the rub, wasn't it? She wanted to be in the dark, even if she hated it--hated _him_ for it.

And he knew in that moment with absolute certainty that no matter how much it pained him, he wouldn't push her away--not completely. He couldn't help but be by her side.

He was Love's bitch till the end. Buffy's bitch, now. And he would remain as such until she used him up.

_You taste like ashes_.

Spike scoffed as the thought flitted across his mind.

_Bloody right you were._

Spike was beginning to have a feeling that he wouldn't go down fighting, as he supposed he would all these years. No, cause it would probably be his love for the Slayer, for Buffy, that would someday reduce him to ashes.

For the only thing his love for her did, was burn. 


End file.
